Return of the Reformed Raticide
by Shelly Lane
Summary: I don't usually do sequels, but a friend requested a continuation of "Felicia's Autobiography," so here it is. This describes her first year living with humans. Disney, Doyle, and Titus own everything.
1. Introduction

**Introduction: I Argue With Toby**

I've heard that any story worth telling is worth telling twice, but I've also heard that too much of a good thing is still too much. That being, I was startled when Toby suggested a continuation of my life story.

"Isn't it enough that I reformed my ways and found a better life?" I asked.

"You should tell about how you adjusted," he explained. "The story of how you overcame your past is an inspiration to everyone!"

"But they already know!" I argued. "It's common knowledge that after Ratigan…disappeared, shall we say…I stopped eating mice and came to live with your humans! Everyone already knows that!"

"Your first year!" he prompted. "You still had a lot of challenges to overcome the first year you lived with us! You knew nothing about life with humans!"

"Toby, the residents of Mousedom are interested in hearing about the epic struggle between good and evil as demonstrated by Basil and Ratigan. No one cares about Felicia's first year with human owners and how she 'adjusted,' as you say."

"Everyone would love to hear it, Felicia!" Toby exclaimed. "Just think! You could describe your first meeting with Mrs. Hudson, all those rotten tricks you've played on me over the months, your first Christmas here..."

"No one likes sequels," I pointed out.

"Then why are series so popular?"

"It would never work! Everyone sees me as the evil Felicia Ratigan, the professor's executioner. They already know how I was trained from kitten to killer. They've already heard how I tried to kill the mouse queen before you chased me away. I leaped into the royal guard dogs' enclosure, escaped but nearly died of my injuries anyway, was found by your humans, and renounced my life of crime. End of story. No one cares about Felicia Hudson, partner of Detective Toby."

"How do you know if you don't try?" the dog argued.

"I've had enough of this! I will prove to you beyond a shadow of doubt that no one cares about my first year here! I'll tell the story, and as soon as I hear complaints about how awful and boring it was and how I should have stopped after my first story because this annoying sequel ruins it, you'll owe me any table scraps you get for a week!"

Toby's eyes widened. "Is that a wager, Felicia?"

I nodded.

"Very well!" he replied. "When someone compliments your story, you'll owe me all your table scraps for a week!"

"Not happening, but I agree to your terms." I smirked, thinking how these were going to be the easiest bits of extra food I'd ever gotten. "And stop talking about my story like it's something great. When it turns out to be pathetic, there are going to be a lot of disappointed mice."

"Sure. I'll stop talking about how wonderful it is if you'll stop making it sound terrible. We'll let anyone who hears it make up his or her own mind."

"And then you'll owe me all your scraps!" I exclaimed joyfully, licking my lips in anticipation.

"I sincerely doubt it," he responded.


	2. June 1897

**June 1897: My New Life Begins**

As I told that ignorant dog, everyone knows how I nearly died of my injuries after I accidentally leaped into the royal guard dogs' enclosure, even though I did manage to escape, and how I was found by the humans who live above Basil. Mr. Holmes carried me inside, and Dr. Watson tended my wounds, gently stroking my head and speaking words of comfort as he worked. Afterwards, I was placed on a soft cushion and wished "a pleasant evening and a complete recovery."

I was suspicious of them. I'd lived with Ratigan long enough to know that no one ever helps anyone else without expecting anything in return.

To ease my troubled mind, I convinced Toby to tell me about his life, and he did. I expected I'd die in my sleep, but much to my surprise, I woke up the next morning. Having no other plans, I accompanied Toby to Big Ben to assist with Basil's investigation. (The sleuth was trying to figure out whether or not Ratigan had survived the fall from the clock the previous evening, but there's no point in me saying what happened to the rat since everyone already knows I...never mind.)

When I returned to Baker Street, Mr. Holmes seemed pleased to see I had survived the night. He had also been at Big Ben, trying to figure out how a "miniature dirigible" had come to be stuck in the face of the clock, but he hadn't noticed Toby or me, and he'd managed to arrive at his flat before we did.

Recovering nicely but still weak from my injuries, I decided to nap a little. Looking around, I decided to sleep in a corner. Surely no one would be offended if I occupied such a place. Before I could doze off, I heard a woman's voice in the kitchen.

"Mr. Holmes! Where have you been?"

"Investigating a case, Mrs. Hudson," Mr. Holmes replied. "Why don't you step out of the kitchen a moment? I believe there's something worthy of your attention in the other room."

"Very well. Just let me finish the eggs first. It wouldn't do to have the two of you complaining about a late breakfast."

I gasped. I'd heard Mr. Holmes tell Dr. Watson several times that someone called "Mrs. Hudson" had been wanting a cat. That had been the voice of my new owner!

Making sure no humans were in the room, Toby whispered, "Are you alright, Felicia? Your paws are trembling."

I shook my head. "No human has ever wanted me before. I don't know how to please my new master." I bit down on my quavering lip. "I'm still missing patches of fur from nearly being eaten by the royal guard dogs, and I haven't learned yet how to behave in front of humans! Toby, I'm not ready to meet Mrs. Hudson!"

Before he could reply, a human woman walked into the room. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, so I stared at her shoes and waited for the harsh words of rejection.

"Poor dear!" She knelt beside me. "How did she get here?"

Mr. Holmes explained how he had found me in an alley. "She intrigues me. Her owners have fed her well and gone through the trouble of placing a bow in her hair, yet she has scars on the pads of her paws from confrontations with large rodents, not to mention she was abandoned and left for dead last night. I cannot help but wonder why such caring owners would subject their feline companion to such tortures. I thought perhaps she could be our houseguest until her owners are located and this matter is sorted out."

"And if no one ever claims her?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Then her fate is in your hands."

I felt myself scooped into Mrs. Hudson's arms. "Come now, kitty. Let's get you some breakfast."

I was frightened. Ratigan had taught me that kindness is an act feigned in order to throw one off guard before cruelties begin; however, I'd also learned the hard way what happens to those who resist authority, so I allowed myself to be carried to the kitchen.

"You're shaking," Mrs. Hudson commented. "Have you been mistreated? Is that why you're having trouble trusting me? Well, it's all over now. You'll see. Everything's going to be fine. From now on, you'll live among friends in the sort of home you deserve."

I wanted to believe her, but the memories of Ratigan were still too fresh in my mind.

"It's going to be so nice having a cat! I can watch you play with yarn, and you can sit in my lap of an evening! A cat is a perfect companion, quiet and independent but still affectionate! Exactly what I've been needing! I'm sure you'll be happy here!"

I tried to purr for her to show obedience, but I was too terrified to make a sound. I spent most of the day fearing what the consequences would be if I were to make a mistake. Regretfully, I didn't have long to wait. I accidentally spilled the bowl of milk I had been drinking. Thorougly ashamed of myself, I fled from the room.

"Is something wrong, Felicia?" Toby asked.

"I-I-I didn't…I didn't mean to…It was an accident…I'm sorry…What…what are they…what will they do to me?!" I stammered, almost in tears. "I was…I was so…I didn't mean to knock the bowl over."

He frowned. "What exactly are you expecting them to do to you?"

"I…when I lived with Ratigan…he brought me…a bowl of milk once, a small bowl…and I drank it…I liked it…I spilled the very last drop…just on the street…It was an accident…He…he called me an…an ingrate…and said I was unappreciative…It…it upset him." I pressed my lips together, unwilling to discuss what my punishment had been.

"Ratigan's dead now," Toby reminded me.

"Your humans…they saved my life…I would've died last night…from the royal guard dogs…I was dying from my injuries…in the street…near your home…They…your humans…took me in…They saved me...Mrs. Hudson...She brought me breakfast...She hasn't harmed me…In return for their kindness…I spilled milk on their floor…a whole bowl…on the carpet...That's worse than...worse than what happened...with him...with Ratigan...They'll be...How can I face them?...I didn't mean to...I've been here less than...less than twelve hours...and I've already..."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Felicia."

Hearing Mrs. Hudson calling, I shuddered.

"What was that for?" Toby demanded. "She doesn't sound angry."

"A…a calm voice…is worse than a shout….A soft voice…conveys more…more wrath."

Shaking all over, I entered the kitchen.

"Here, kitty. I got you some more milk since I noticed you had spilled yours." Mrs. Hudson placed a bowl on the floor.

I understood. She was going to punish me by forcing me to drink milk mixed with enough arsenic to make me miserable but not enough to kill me. That was still more merciful than some of the things Ratigan used to do. Slowly, I began to drink the milk. It didn't taste like there was any sort of poison in it. In fact, it was delicious. The only thing it had been mixed with was cream! What was my punishment then if it wasn't...?

Mrs. Hudson picked me up. "I'm so glad you've come to live with us, kitty."

I was confused. She hadn't tried to harm me for accidentally spilling milk on the carpet. What was she doing, trying to get me to relax so her revenge would catch me off guard? Worse yet, was she trying to trick me into punishing myself?

When I asked Toby about it later, he rolled his eyes. "Will you relax, cat?! I'm sorry you've had a hard life in the past, but do you honestly think Mr. Holmes would allow any sort of cruelty in his home? He would look like a complete imbecile if he could solve problems for other people but not keep his own home free of violence!"

"Humans are not to be trusted!" I retorted.

"Who told you that?" Toby asked. "If it was Ratigan, I want you to disregard the information. In fact, why don't you just forget anything he ever told you? You know now that he was lying, right?"

I pondered his words.

"Look, Felicia. I'm not sure how I feel about having a cat living here, but Mrs. Hudson likes you, so you're staying. That being, I think I should make it clear once and for all that I hate your melodrama, so whatever it is that's bothering you, I want to help you through it."


	3. July 1897

**July 1897: A Ghost Haunts Me**

Even though I had lived with my new humans for a few weeks, I still had nightmares about my former life, and sometimes I had pleasant dreams that my humans had found me when I was a kitten, and I had never met Padraic Ratigan. After nearly a month of my new lifestyle, I had the most unusual dream of all.

Bartholomew stood in front of me. He was sober, and there were other mice with him. Although they had died before I was born, I had a feeling these were his sisters that he had often mentioned.

I lowered my head, unable to look him in the eye. He had been like a brother to me! How could I have ever allowed myself to turn evil enough to…?! My throat ached terribly as my vision suddenly blurred.

"Felicia," my former friend began, "this is the life you were meant to live. I'm proud of you for deciding to reform your ways, and nothing makes me happier than seeing you given a second chance. I'm glad the royal guard dogs didn't succeed when they tried to kill you last month."

"But I succeeded in killing you!" I sobbed.

"No, you didn't," he argued, trying to dry my tears, just as he had always done when I was kitten. "I died years ago when I started drinking too much. Ratigan killed me. You just disposed of the alcoholic who had taken over my life, and I'm thankful. I'm free now. Liquor no longer has any power over me."

I couldn't answer.

"It really wasn't bad," he continued. "I was too drunk to feel pain or fear. I didn't even realize what was happening."

"Why are you comforting me? You're the one who's dead!"

"It's just a part of life. I would have died eventually anyway. Everyone does, you know."

"You went before your time," I argued.

"I'm not missing out on anything. I'm still here."

"What happens after death, Bartholomew?"

"You've got many years ahead of you before finding out," he replied gently.

"Are you with your family now?"

"Just as you are with yours," my friend responded. "Mrs. Hudson is a wonderful human. She'll take good care of you, and she really does feel genuine affection, the way a human ought to love a pet. If you let him, Toby will also be a true friend." After a pause, he added, "The worst is over. The years that follow will be the best of your life, and they'll be so incredible that you will forget every bad memory that's ever troubled your mind. You've finally gotten what you deserve, Felicia. This is what I always hoped would happen to you."

I stared in silence, absorbing his words and taking solace from them, just as I always had when he was alive and had offered me comfort after Ratigan's harangues and tortures.

As if reading my mind, Bartholomew continued, "I know it may be difficult, but I want you to try to forgive Ratigan for being cruel to you. What he did was wrong, but he wasn't always brutal. Although he grew up in a loving home, he had a hard life, and you can't live with hostility for years without being affected. He was wrong to turn villainous, but I can understand why he did."

"I forgive him," I answered. "I understand what it's like to turn evil out of hatred." I had to ask, "Are any of Ratigan's other victims with you? The ones I…?"

"Yes. They've forgiven you, and they want you to forgive yourself."

"How could they possibly…?"

Bartholomew smiled warmly. "You'll understand someday, but not just yet. There's a lot of life ahead of you, and I want you to live it to the fullest. That's what second chances are for. Remember, you were just another of Ratigan's victims, so I don't want you blaming yourself for his crimes, including murder. All you did was grow up to be obedient so you wouldn't be tortured. You're not to blame for what happened when the bell rang."

Realizing this was both the first time we had ever spoken, and quite likely the last, I thanked him for all the care he had given me when I was a kitten, telling him how much I appreciated every good deed performed and thoughtful word spoken.

"I know you risked the professor's displeasure every time you were kind to me," I concluded. "It could have cost you your life."

Immediately, I put my paw over my mouth in horror. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

My friend just continued to smile. "Some things are worth dying for. I was honored to have been your friend. You were like a sister to me."

Knowing how much he had loved his sisters, I understood that was a high compliment.

"I couldn't have asked for a better brother." I hugged him.

He returned my embrace. "You see? You've reformed already! Now you're acting like the Felicia I remember!"

"And now you are the Bartholomew I remember, the one who used to sneak me food and read me stories before he became an alcoholic."

Our conversation turned to lighter subjects, and we were laughing and joking together, just like I'd always wanted to do when Bartholomew was alive, but of course, I had never been able to talk to mice.

All too soon, he was saying, "I have to go now, but I won't really leave you." He lightly tapped the tip of my nose like he used to do when I was a kitten. "Every time a raindrop or a snowflake lands here, you'll know I'm with you."

That was the moment I woke up. The dream had felt so real that I had to talk to someone.

"Toby?"

He opened an eye and sighed wearily. "Yes?"

"Are you my brother now?" I queried.

He sighed. "If I say yes, will you let us both get back to sleep?"

"You do care!" I embraced him.

"Cat, if you don't stop hugging me…! Come on, Felicia! Let go! I have a reputation to protect!"

I released him, and he muttered something about "that stupid cat."

"Toby?"

He rolled his eyes. "What now, Madame Melodrama?!"

"Do you think Ratigan's victims are in a better place now?"

The dog sighed. "It's two hours past midnight, and you're asking about…?!" He took a deep breath. "Can you think of a worse place than Ratigan's lair?"

"Not really," I responded.

"Is anyone there anymore?"

"No."

"If no one's there, that means they're somewhere else, and if there's no worse place, that means wherever they are is better. Happy now?"

I yawned. "Satisfied."

"Good! Now think of happy memories and go back to sleep!"

Hearing Big Ben toll in the distance, I sighed contentedly. Although Ratigan had been brutal and pugnacious, I had so many fond memories of our last meeting. Much to my surprise, he had been tender. (I'd expected him to be bitter.) I smiled when I remembered how after he fell from Big Ben, he had died in my arms.

In my arms? At my hands? Semantics! I'm sure there's only a slight difference between the two expressions!

He didn't die from falling off the clock at the stroke of 10:00, but he still wasn't around to see 10:05.

Realizing my mouth had started to water, I readjusted my weight on my favorite cushion and drifted back to sleep.


	4. August 1897

**August 1897: Toby's Flat Becomes Mine**

Even though I had been solving cases with Toby ever since a few days after my arrival at Baker Street, it wasn't until several weeks later that we gained a new respect for each other. We got involved in a case with one of Ratigan's former rivals, who was trying to set up a new criminal ring with those who had served the rat. The criminal had even seen to it that some of Ratigan's men were able to escape from prison. Thanks to my insight concerning criminal mentality and Toby's ability to track felons, justice was served.

However, it was hard for me to gain trust among the rodent population. I thought my part in Ratigan's demise would earn their respect, but instead, it caused greater fear.

"Do you know how Professor Ratigan died?" one mouse would whisper to another. "He actually survived the fall from Big Ben, and his own cat ate him! If Felicia would turn on her own master, there's no hope for any of us!"

Basil didn't help matters. He insisted that I do nothing without Toby's supervision "to ensure there will be no temptation of relapse."

Couldn't they see I was losing weight? My waist was already showing the results of having gone two months without eating a single mouse. I no longer craved liquor, for I no longer dined on drunkards. Wasn't my friendship with the dog becoming well known? How would I have gained the sleuth hound's trust if he thought I would endanger his rodent friends?

I sometimes sat by Big Ben, gazing up at the hands of the clock. "Why did you do this to me?! I can understand that you taught me to kill mice, for such an action is natural to many cats, but did you have to make me the most notorious murderess in the empire?! You made me what I was, not who I am, and I despise you!"

"Who are you talking to?"

I gasped. "Toby! I didn't hear you…"

"Yes, I know." He sat down beside me. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I sometimes forget that I forgave him," I replied.

"Who?"

"The world's greatest criminal rat."

"Is it true what Basil says about the way Ratigan treated you?"

I ignored the question. "I think I've been cheated. I wish I had met the Padraic Ratigan that Basil knew when he was a child. The former Ratigan that Basil describes…"

"What about him?"

I glared at the dog. "Are you interrogating me?"

"Felicia, it sometimes helps to talk about something."

I sighed. "He would have made a good master, a good friend. I never knew that Ratigan. It's almost like he died before I was born. I only knew the criminal who used to…" I didn't finish the sentence. "I often wished I'd been raised by the old Ratigan, who had a kind heart to match his sharp mind. He could have taught me to live up to my potential!"

"You're a cat!" Toby replied. "You don't have any potential. Does that solve your problem?"

"You forget Ratigan taught me how to fight!" I threatened.

"You wouldn't dare!"

I did dare, but I accidentally-on-purpose forgot to unsheathe my claws. It was more a game than an actual battle, and we both ended up laughing. We teased each other at least ten times daily, but neither of us would have actually hurt the other.

"Feeling better?" the dog asked.

"I will soon," I replied.

It was true. I was beginning to feel comfortable around my humans, especially Mrs. Hudson. I let her pet me, and I tried to reciprocate her affection. Once when she was holding me, I rested my head on her shoulder. She seemed to like it, and when she sat in front of the fireplace to rest that evening, I tentatively put a paw on her knee, causing her to smile.

"Are you going to sit in my lap?" she inquired.

Taking her question as permission, I leaped into her chair. She started scratching behind my ears.

"Mr. Holmes!"

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson?"

"She's purring!"

I guess I had been purring. I knew I was safe in her care. My own human! How had I gotten so lucky? Looking around, I realized I had to stop thinking of the flat as "Toby's home." It was my home too.


	5. September 1897

**September 1897: Thoughtful Discussions**

Toby and I were walking through the park, discussing what we would change about our lives if possible.

"If I could change just three things, I'd be allowed to sleep on the furniture," the dog stated. "Then I'd be allowed to eat at the table! And for the third thing, you would be a dog so I wouldn't have to be best friends with a cat."

I frowned. "Is it all about you? If you could change three things about your life, wouldn't you wish for world peace or that nobody would commit crimes or hurt anyone else anymore? Wouldn't you end poverty and hunger?"

"Since when did you become philosophical?"

"Wanting to end the problems of the world is not philosophical!"

"Felicia, I don't understand you. Just last June, you were trying to help a sewer rat overthrow the government. You were hated and feared, a true killer. Now you are calling for world peace and the end of crimes, hunger, and poverty. What happened to you?"

"Someone reminded me who I was meant to be, not who I was molded into," I replied.

"Who?"

"Somebody who used to be able to imitate Basil's voice perfectly." I smiled at the memory. "I remember I was sick once, and he did Basil impressions all afternoon to cheer me up."

"Who was it?"

"My older brother."

"I thought you didn't have any siblings!"

I ignored him. I had never told him about my dream of Bartholomew advising me a final time. Toby would never have understood that I used to be friends with a mouse, especially considering how my late friend had met his death.

"You and Dr. Dawson seem to be getting to be good friends," I remarked.

"I was wrong to hate him at first," Toby confessed. "Besides, he did save Basil's life."

"Twice in the same night," I added.

"Did anyone ever have to save Ratigan's life?"

"Ratigan's life was only in danger once," I responded, "and no one was around to help him or at least comfort him during his final moments. I almost feel bad for him."

"Almost?"

"Well, it's not like he didn't deserve it."


	6. October 1897

**October 1897: The Professor Returns**

One rainy night, Toby suggested we pass the time by telling ghost stories in front of the fireplace.

"I'm too busy watching out for rats," I responded.

"Rats?" Toby asked. "Why? Not all rats are evil, and don't you think Basil would know if there were any rats in his home?"

"I've told you about what Ratigan did to me, but have I ever told you what rats do to dogs?"

He tilted his head. "What are you talking about, Felicia?"

"When dogs are asleep, rats tear out their eyes. They use the dog eyes to play billiards, and the winner eats them baked in a casserole." I sighed as if recalling unpleasant memories. "Ratigan tried to feed me dog eye casserole once, but I refused, and he…!" I cringed and shook my head.

Speaking of dog eyes, Toby's were as wide as Mr. Holmes's magnifying glass. "You're not joking?!" He moved closer. "Do you really think there's a rat in here?"

I lowered my voice. "I cannot be sure, but you must be quiet. Rats have excellent hearing."

Toby was trembling all over. The next time lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, he ran straight into Mr. Holmes's room and jumped onto the bed, startling the investigator from a sound sleep.

"What in Doyle's name…?! Toby! I suppose the fault is mine for leaving the door partially ajar, but you know better than to…!"

The dog started whimpering and whining, causing the detective's tone to soften.

"Frightened by the storm, were you? Very well, but you must remain on the floor! I simply will not allow you to sleep on my bed!"

Believe me when I say it was all I could do to refrain from a fit of hysterical laughter. That dog was SO gullible! How could someone that witless have ever been trained to serve the shrewd Sherlock Holmes or the brilliant Basil of Baker Street?! Tricking that mutt was so much fun that I was always trying to outdo myself, and I had just…! This had been perfect! If Ratigan himself had returned from the dead, Toby couldn't have been more frightened!

Or could he?

I won't say I came up with an elaborate scheme to hire a rat to act the part of Ratigan's ghost in order to frighten Toby, but then again, I won't say I didn't. I can neither confirm nor deny it.


	7. November 1897

**November 1897: Justice Is Served**

To bring a bit of excitement to a slightly boring day, Toby and I decided to take a walk. To amuse ourselves, we stood outside the prison and eavesdropped on the conversations.

"Twenty years!" one prisoner complained. "Can you believe it?! I don't deserve this!"

"Shut up, Bill! You say that at least fifteen times a day! At least you don't get fifty!"

"You should have been more cooperative, Lewis!"

"Call him a rat, Robert!"

Toby frowned and whispered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"When one of Ratigan's henchmen says that to another, it means 'Drop dead!'" I explained. "Robert will be free in five years. Lewis and Henry have fifty left. Bill has twenty. I feel sorry for Buford; he was hanged last month. Allen seemed like he could reform with counseling, so he's free, but like me, he's an outcast who has no one's trust."

Omitting the names of all those who never lived to stand trial, I recited the sentence for each henchman as Toby listened intently.

"How do you know all this?" he inquired when I had finished.

"I attended some of their trials, and the rest I heard through eavesdropping like this. This is how I conduct an investigation."

He smiled at my joke, and we listened in silence for a while longer.

"Did you hear what happened to Fidget?" Henry asked. "I overheard the police talking. It turns out the gibbering imbecile is making money by teaching younger bats to fly!"

"How can he do that when he himself can't fly?!" Bill demanded.

"I have no idea, but that's what he's been doing! It gets better! The police think Fidget is 'mentally incompetent,' and bringing him to trial would just be a migraine for all involved! They think he's too stupid to be held accountable for his own crimes, so as long as he behaves himself, he's not going to jail! He was even told that if anyone ever asks, he's supposed to say he's already stood trial for his misdeeds!"

"Incompetent?!" Lewis sounded as if he were about to explode. "Fidget's actually highly intelligent! He just got nervous around the boss! His fear caused him to make a few errors and ruined his speech a bit; that's all! He was Ratigan's favorite henchmen for years, and he's no more incompetent than I am!"

"He's less incompetent than you are!" Robert pointed out. "He's not the one in prison!"


	8. December 1897

**December 1897: Hush**

"Toby?"

"Yes, Felicia?"

"What's Christmas?"

He frowned. "Is this a joke?"

"No. I heard Mrs. Hudson mention Christmas, and I don't know what it is."

"Did you never celebrate it before?"

I shook my head. "I've never even heard of it."

He explained everything he knew about Christmas.

"It sounds wonderful! I look forward to it!" I thought a moment. "Am I also expected to give gifts?"

"Just show a little appreciation when your humans give you something, and they'll be happy. Humans are gullible creatures. We animals don't really have to do anything but listen to them once in a while and show them a little affection, and they'll do anything for us."

"It sounds kind of like Hush!"

"How do you celebrate Hush?" Toby asked.

"Every December 25, some of Ratigan's men would quietly sneak outside and exchange cigars or bottles of alcohol or something else of value to them, and whenever someone got too enthusiastic showing gratitude, everyone would say, 'Hush! The professor will hear you and kill us all!'"

"Did anyone ever give you a present for Hush?"

"When I was younger, Bartholomew would always ask me if I could keep a secret, and when I nodded, he would pour something warm and sweet into my mouth."

"Hot chocolate?"

"Yes, I think that's what he called it. One year, he put his finger to his lips and said we were going to sneak away and take a walk. When we had gone far enough that he could talk without whispering, he told me a story about mice who tried to tie a bell around a cat's neck, and then he said I shouldn't feel alone because cats have been answering to bells ever since ancient times. It was nice being away from Ratigan for a couple hours. The best present anyone had ever given me!"

"It must have been wonderful."

I nodded. "When I became a true villainess, Ratigan would give me at least five of the fattest mice in the empire for a feast every Hush, except he called the holiday by a different name."

"What name?"

"It depended on what mood he was in."

"I see."

"Last Hush, Basil played a trick on Ratigan!"

Toby chuckled. "I remember that! Got him to reform his ways for two whole weeks, didn't it?!"

Seeing the way the flat was being decorated, I realized I liked Christmas much better than Hush. It was more festive and colorful, and there was sort of a good feeling everywhere, and no one was afraid of being killed when they tried to wrap gifts.

A few days before Christmas, I noticed someone creeping around the corners of Mr. Holmes's flat. Not wishing to wake Toby, I decided to investigate on my own.

"Hush," the figure pleaded. "I don't want to cause trouble for humans, but I need a break. Staying with Basil isn't easy just because I reformed."

I knew that voice! Besides, who else would know about Hush?

"You look different." Fidget limped over to me. "You've lost a lot of weight. I take it you don't eat mice anymore."

I shook my head.

"So you have your own humans now? Must be nice."

I purred.

"Toby give you much trouble?"

I slashed the air with my claws, causing Fidget to chuckle. Noticing his wing, I gestured to my own shoulder.

"Oh, that? Basil had his partner fix it for me. They say I'll be able to fly again someday. That's actually how I got here. Spent the day recovering from surgery. Nice of them to help, but I can only stand so much violin music. I need a break. Just taking a quick walk."

"Meow." I smiled.

"You're happy for me? Thanks, cat. That's nice of you to say."

I tried to think of a proper way to apologize for having caused the broken wing in the first place.

"Don't blame yourself," Fidget stated. "I know you're sorry. I can see it in your eyes. You couldn't help it. Ratigan always has his way." He grinned. "_Had_ his way."

I gestured to the Christmas decorations.

"Oh, thanks! Happy Hush to you too!" He cleared his throat. "Uh…I mean Merry Christmas." He laughed again. "Did you ever think the two of us would be wishing each other a Merry Christmas in a human home, both of us reformed?"

It was an amazing Christmas! Mrs. Hudson gave me a ball of yarn.

"This one is your very own," she stated. "Christmas is so much nicer now that you're here to celebrate it with me."

Mr. Holmes gave each of us pets a new cushion, and Dr. Watson had managed to find a little catnip for me.

Toby's gift was the most surprising. He hugged me and told me he was glad I had survived the royal guard dogs' attack and reformed my ways, and that I was "actually useful" when it came to solving cases.

My gift to him was a few table scraps the humans had given me. It doesn't take much to please a dog. Most of them will be your friend for life if you give them a little extra food.

As I was preparing to sleep that evening, Mrs. Hudson scooped me up in her arms and said that since it was Christmas, I could sleep at the foot of her bed. To this day, I have no idea how I ended up on her pillow. Honest.

I'm hardly the first house cat ever to end up on my human's pillow by complete accident!


	9. January 1898

**January 1898: The Idyllic Snow Scene**

Snow softly kissed the windows as I dozed in front of the fireplace. At times like this, I was especially grateful that I no longer lived in alleyways. To be honest, I rarely thought about my former life, and when I did, the memories were no longer as painful as they had been.

I spent the next day building little sculptures out of snow. When I'd still lived with Ratigan, the henchmen used to sneak outside and make snow rats every winter. They would then destroy the snow rats in the cruelest manner they could think of: beating the snow sculptures with clubs, stabbing them with knives, kicking the snow rats' heads off, or trying to set them on fire. This was great fun until they noticed several decapitated snow mice in Ratigan's lair. (Translation: "I saw you idiots building and destroying those snow rats, and don't think I don't know what it's supposed to represent! If it ever happens again, you imbeciles are dead meat-LITERALLY! Sincerely, Professor Ratigan.")

Now it was my turn. I made a snow rat and bit its head off. Then I felt sort of bad, so I made a new head for my sculpture and built a snow mouse to go with it.

"Basil and Ratigan before they became enemies?" Toby asked.

I nodded.

"Will you teach me?"

"Don't you know how to make snow rodents?" I queried. "It's elementary!"

"I never learned how to make rodents out of snow, but I know how to make a snow cat."

Without another word, he pushed me into a snow bank and buried me.

"Consider that reprisal for you little ghost story last autumn!" he exclaimed. "Justice?"

I smiled. "Justice."

He cleared his throat and attempted to sound solemn. "Now that you have received sentence, have you anything to say for yourself?"

"It was entirely worth it!" I answered.

He chuckled. "Felicia Ratigan, you are hopeless!"

"What was that?! What did you call me?! I am NOT a Ratigan!"

Thus I experienced my first snowball fight, which might have worked better if we hadn't both been laughing too hard to throw properly.


	10. February 1898

**February 1898: I Become Royalty**

"Is this the residence of Basil of Baker Street?"

Mrs. Judson ushered in the visitor.

"How may I be of service?" the investigator queried.

"Detective, do you know how to get rid of a cat?"

"If I did, Ratigan would not have gained such power," Basil replied. "Why do you ask?"

"There's a tan cat that's been killing my neighbors. I have a wife and five children, so I wished to know if there was a way to stop the monster before any members of my family fall victim to this creature."

"A tan cat you say?"

"Yes. Very tall and slender."

"I shall see what I can do, but I'm afraid I can make no guarantees."

"Thank you, sir."

Basil began playing his violin. I knew what he must have been thinking, and I didn't have time to wait for him to sort through clues. I had to solve this case before I was accused of having a relapse. As soon as I overheard Basil mention where the informant lived, I had Toby follow me to the area where the murders had happened.

"Are you sure it wasn't you, Felicia?" he inquired.

"Toby, why would I eat mice when Mrs. Hudson offers me prawns?!"

"Just making sure." He started sniffing the ground. "A lot of cats live around here."

"It doesn't matter which one you find! Just track one down!"

He followed a trail to a black cat.

"Do you know who killed a mouse a few days ago?!" I demanded.

"A lot of mice around here die," the other cat replied. "If you are a skilled mouser, you will have a good meal."

"I hereby order that no more small creatures shall be killed by cats!"

"And who are you?"

"Your queen, pauper!" I retorted.

"You are the Queen of Cats?!" The other cat frowned. "Your Majesty, if you no longer wish us to kill rodents, Your Highness will have to find other ways for her subjects to have food."

"If you will become allies rather than adversaries, the mice will bring food. Is this what you want, hatred and rivalry forever? Some dogs work with rodents, and they're well rewarded. Do you want the dogs to outdo you? Why should we not prove our superiority over dogs by doing the same jobs, only better?"

Toby's hackles were beginning to rise, but he had worked too many cases to blow my cover.

"Is this dog Your Majesty's servant?" the cat asked.

"He is," I answered.

"Now I know you are truly queen, for what other cat would have a dog to serve her? I shall spread the word, Your Highness. No other smaller creatures will die at our paws! We shall work to form the alliance!"

"Your answer pleases me," I replied. "You are dismissed."

The other cat ran off. Catching Toby's eye, I bowed slightly, causing him to smile.

"All mice in that neighborhood will be safe. I only wish I could have convinced every cat in London that killing rodents is illegal," I told him later.

"Who's the real Queen of Cats?" he asked.

"How should I know? I was raised around criminal rodents!"

"You don't know? Then how did you convince the other cat that you were…?"

"Ratigan taught me," I replied. "It's all in the attitude. If you have the right demeanor, you can deceive others into believing you have ultimate power over their lives."

"You've come a long way, Felicia. First you were Ratigan's helpless victim. Then you were a murderess. Then you were struggling to overcome your past. Now you're…" He struggled to think of the right words.

"A gifted leader!" I offered. "A crusader for justice! A majestic mountain of humility!"

"You're hopeless, cat!" he teased.

"May you dream you aren't worthless, dog." I cleared my throat. "I mean, good night, Toby."

"'May you dream you aren't worthless'?! Is that how Ratigan used to wish you pleasant dreams?"

"Yes, but he usually said, 'Get to sleep before I feed you poisoned nails for breakfast!'"

"Did he ever…?"

"Who cares?"

I yawned and fell asleep.

As for the tan cat who had been killing mice, no one ever complained about it again, so I can only assume it heard of my "proclamation" and stopped being a threat to small rodents.


	11. March 1898

**March 1898: I Solve Fidget's Problem**

Once after a visit with Dawson and Basil, Fidget came to talk to me for a few minutes.

"As you know, Basil's chubby friend fixed my wing last December. He says I can start flying, but I'm kind of scared," he confessed. "What if I can't do it? It's been so long! Or what if the operation wasn't as successful as the doctor thought? I want to fly again, but I'm almost afraid to try. As long as I haven't tried, I still have hope that I can fly again someday, but if I try and fail, that hope's gone, you know."

I seized him and tossed him out the nearest open window. As I'd expected, he was able to fly perfectly well. He'd just needed a little self confidence.

It was an interesting coincidence: I'd been the first one to notice when he lost his ability to fly, and now I was the first one to see him use his wings properly again.


	12. April 1898

**April 1898: The Battle Of Wits**

"We're both highly intelligent, just in different ways," Toby mused. "Which of us do you think is more clever?"

"I am," I replied without hesitation. "I can prove it."

During the next rainstorm, the conditions were perfect. Mrs. Hudson was out doing errands, and Mr. Holmes was working a case with Dr. Watson. Toby and I were alone in the flat. With no one to stop him, Toby ran outside to roll in the mud, as dogs often do. I waited until he was completely covered in mud, and then I challenged him to chase me. Unable to resist the opportunity to chase a cat, Toby readily agreed.

I ran over the most expensive furniture and the finest carpet with Toby close behind me. I even made sure to leap onto every one of the humans' beds.

"I told you I was more clever than you!" I exclaimed, pointing to the muddy paw prints Toby had left everywhere.

The front door opened, and someone stepped inside.

"I hope Mr. Holmes hasn't forgotten…" There was a gasp of horror. "**TOBIAS EUCLID HOLMES!**"

Toby started whimpering, looking up with sad eyes as he slowly wagged his tail.

Mrs. Hudson glared at him. "What will Mr. Holmes say when he sees what you've done to his furniture?!"

I almost felt bad, but you have to consider how willing humans are to forgive their dogs. All Toby had to do was whine a little and rest his head on Mr. Holmes's slipper to get back in good graces.

"Dogs always get blamed for mud on the furniture," Toby explained to me later, "but there are a few crimes that are always blamed on cats."

I was horrified when I saw the shredded drapes the next day. I rubbed against Mrs. Hudson's ankles and purred, hoping she'd accept my apology, even though I hadn't done anything. I knew good and well who had shredded those drapes: a vengeful sleuth hound!

Mrs. Hudson took a deep breath. "I suppose it's my fault. I haven't gotten you anything proper to use when you want to sharpen your claws. You probably couldn't help yourself, could you?"

As Toby slept that night, I gently placed Mr. Holmes's cap on the dog's head. Without waking the hound, I slipped Mr. Holmes's pipe between Toby's lips, placing the violin by the dog's side.

When Mr. Holmes noticed the next day, he frowned. "Watson, may I have a word with you?"

At the sound of his master's voice, Toby woke up, horrified at what was on his head and in his mouth.

"On my word, Holmes, I had no part in this," Dr. Watson protested.

Toby and I played tricks on each other all month, and to this day, I'm still not sure who won.


	13. May 1898

**May 1898: A Tender Moment**

"Mr. Basil, if you hadn't saved our lives years ago, we would never have had the chance to be married or have our own family," the woman began, "so we thought it only right that you have the chance to see our baby." She held out the infant.

"My congratulations to you both," the investigator replied.

Even though he tried to hold the baby mouse carefully, he acted sort of awkward, as if not used to cuddling infants. Mrs. Judson, on the other hand, seemed like she'd been around children before. She kissed the baby's neck and forehead, cooing over it like it was the best thing in the world.

The parents brought the baby up to see Toby, but before the dog had the chance to hold the little mouse, I put out my paw on impulse.

"You want to hold the baby?" the father asked.

I nodded.

The parents acted uncomfortable with the idea. I heard them whispering about it. Finally, the mother placed the infant on my paw.

"Watch the head," she stated. "You have to be very gentle and careful, like you would be with your own baby."

I barely felt the weight against my paw. I'd never held any sort of baby before, not even a kitten, and I was entranced by the happy giggles, sweet eyes, and adorable smile.

Oh! I understood now! This was tenderness! And this was why so many of Ratigan's victims had been willing to die rather than lose their children!

I made a kissing sound.

"You want to kiss the baby?" the mother asked nervously. "Well, I suppose just one kiss since the dog's here…"

Weren't any of these mice ever going to trust me?! I didn't need Toby's supervision all the time! Still, I couldn't blame the parents for being nervous, especially considering their past history with me.

Very gingerly, I slowly placed my lips on one of the tiny hands as lightly as a butterfly would land on a flower. I'd never felt anything so soft before. I knew then that as long as I was alive, no cat in all of Mousedom would ever harm the priceless treasure that was trying to pull my whiskers.

As I explained to Toby later, when Ratigan murdered Bartholomew's family, one of my former friend's sisters had escaped, and that woman was the mother of this baby. That meant this infant was Bartholomew's niece or nephew, and since the baby's uncle had been like a brother to me, I was an aunt!

"So does that make me an uncle since last June you were asking if I was your brother?" Toby responded.

"Aunt Felicia and Uncle Toby!" I exclaimed. "It's so nice having a niece or nephew, isn't it?"


	14. June 1898

**June 1898: Do I Live Happily Ever After?**

I thought my dreams about my former life had stopped haunting me, but once more, I dreamed of Ratigan. However, this time was different.

"Felicia, I want to apologize to you," he began. "I should have done it sooner, but I was too ashamed to face you. I was wrong to treat you the way I did, and I'm sorry."

I frowned. "Who are you? You're not the Professor Ratigan who raised me."

"No, I'm not," he replied. "I'm the Padraic Ratigan who used to play chess with Basil, the one who gave the great mouse detective his first trench coat and deerstalker cap."

"I've heard a lot about you before you turned criminal. So this is what the old Ratigan was like! Do you have any idea how much Basil misses you? Toby says Basil never fully got over the loss of your friendship when you allowed your heart to darken."

"Neither did I," Ratigan confessed. "I never should have…" He shook his head. "I do plan to visit Basil and apologize to him as well."

"He's already forgiven you," I answered, "as I have."

"Still, I should tell him…" He sighed. "But right now I want to talk to you. I really did appreciate how willing you were to help me, and you were indeed very useful. I just never showed my gratitude. I took you for granted. Furthermore, I know that if I had treated you better, you would have made a fine companion. I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I should have worked to earn your respect rather than forced you to obey me out of fear, and I should never have turned you evil. Ruining my own life was my decision, but ruining yours was selfish."

"Good still came of it," I assured him. "Your cruelty taught me to appreciate mercy and value justice. I learned never to take anything for granted, not even my next meal, and I came to know the value of true friendship and how precious a gift it is. You taught me well, Professor. Thank you."

"But I didn't have to teach you so harshly!"

"I'm sorry I ate you."

He chuckled. "No, you're not."

"Well…to be honest, I'm not sorry I did it, but I'm sorry it had to come to that."

"I deserved it."

He embraced me, and I could tell that for once, he actually meant his display of affection, so I lightly placed a paw on his back to return the gesture.

"Anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked. "I know I'll never be able to make full recompense for all the wrong I've done, but is there anything that would make you feel at least a little better?"

"I'm having a great life now, and I know what it's like to be driven to cruelty. It's alright," I replied. "But on second thought, there is one thing."

"Yes?"

"Will you sing for me? You always did have a great voice!"

When I woke up, I vowed never again to eat herring so late at night. That had been a strange dream! I couldn't tell which had been more peculiar, my recent dream about Ratigan apologizing and singing to me, or my dream last July where Bartholomew had comforted me and said he'd be near me whenever a raindrop or snowflake tapped my nose.

I didn't have time to contemplate unusual dreams. Basil had fallen into a state of self pity for the twelfth time that week, and we all had decided to have a meeting to show him that his work really did make a difference. Toby and I arrived at the designated place, where Fidget was waiting with some of Ratigan's former henchmen, most of which were escorted by policemen. When Dawson arrived with Basil, Fidget told the detective what a difference his investigations had made. Dawson added to the speech, pointing out that we prisoners and reformed citizens were all that was left of the most powerful criminal ring in the empire.

I tried to pay attention, but I was too busy cuddling that adorable baby mouse I had met last month, my little niece or nephew. (I still wasn't sure which, but it was cute!)

It had been exactly one year since I had eaten my last mouse: Bartholomew Ingham. There were still times when I momentarily felt guilt over what I had done, but I knew I had to move on with my life. I couldn't remain trapped by my past forever.

The next day also marked a significant event in my life. I needed time to think, so I visited Big Ben, sitting by the clock tower in silent contemplation.

After a few minutes, I noticed Toby approaching. He sat next to me.

"Basil reminded me that it's been exactly one year ago that Ratigan died," the dog remarked.

"It's been a strange year," I remarked. "One year ago today, I was watching Ratigan set up the mouse trap for Basil, preparing myself to take the queen's life. Now I am a house cat and a sleuth hound's partner. I've escaped dogs who were my enemies, made friends in the mouse community, and formed a bond with my own human. I used to eat drunk mice and sardines. Now I eat table scraps and salmon. I used to be a cross between villainess and victim, but now I am victor. Definitely a strange year, and the best of my life."

"You finally found true happiness."

"I only regret that I almost died before I learned how to enjoy life to the fullest. I must be really slow at taking hints." I smiled. "But I'm past all that now. I can't waste the rest of my life looking back when I have so much ahead of me!"

"That's the spirit!"

Noticing the clouds starting to form, I suggested we return home before we got caught in the storm. We made it back to Baker Street before heavy torrents poured from the sky, but not before the rain started to fall gently. The first raindrop hit me directly on the nose.

When we came inside, Mrs. Hudson lifted me into her arms. "Today is a special day, kitty. You've been my companion for a year now! I have a little treat for you to celebrate!"

I was used to getting a prawn or two on special occasions, but that day, I got five!

Detective Holmes rubbed my head. "I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about Mrs. Hudson inviting a cat into our lives, but her sagacity is to be congratulated. Even Toby has benefited from your company."

"Indeed!" Dr. Watson agreed.

Humans who love me, my own dog to torment, acceptance among small rodents, the knowledge I've overcome my past, a warm place in front of the fire, a soft cushion to sleep on, a ball of yarn to bat around, and prawns! There's got to be more to life than this, but I hope not!

In case anyone's wondering if I "lived happily ever after," the answer is no. Get real! As long as I'm Toby's partner, there will always be one more case to solve or one more mystery to unravel or one more criminal to prove I'm smarter than. Meanwhile, I'll get to watch baby mice grow up, not to mention I'll have stories to tell of pleasant memories from my former life or the transition from that lifestyle to the one I now live. There will always be more tricks to play on the dog or more happy moments with my people. If you live at 221 B Baker Street, there is no "happily ever after," only the beginning of the next adventure.


End file.
